


Home for the Holidays

by thelilnan



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Coming Out, Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Sex, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Gen, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:03:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9061492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilnan/pseuds/thelilnan
Summary: It's Christmastime for everyone's favorite survivors. This year, they have the chance to attend some family reunions, for better or worse. It'll take a Christmas miracle to get through it alive.





	1. December 3rd

It was early; maybe not actually early but it was early for December. Something happens late in the year, when winter begins to settle into the city and chills everyone down to their bones. People sleep later, everything’s a little slower, weighted down by thick blankets and heavy snow. Adam Faulkner, a frequent victim of this phenomenon, was buried in one of these blankets quite comfortably in the master bedroom of the loft he shared with Lawrence Gordon, safe, happy, and warm. Not as happy as he could be, however, seeing as the aforementioned roommate and boyfriend was absent from the bed with only the ghost of his warmth left behind in the covers. With a long, sleepy stretch, he relished the soft bed and blankets before setting out to find the older man.

His feet hit the floor and Adam hissed, recoiling from the cold, polished wood. For a moment, he questioned how much he really wanted to find Lawrence. Was it worth leaving the warm cocoon of the bed? He reasoned that if he played his cards right, Lawrence might come back to bed, or even make a new bed on the couch. That was an enticing thought; the two of them drowning in blankets in the living room, Lawrence between his legs, his large hands on his hips…

Clearing his throat, Adam hurried through his morning wash up, making sure he was as presentable as possible before embarking on this mission. Lawrence was one of those people; very nit-picky, always fussing with Adam’s appearance. It always came down to his hair. Lawrence would never actually say the words but he hated Adam’s hair. Adam knew this. He didn’t particularly care, but he knew, and with that knowledge at his disposal, he combed his hair down from its natural bird’s nest state to something a bit more composed. It would never be quite as refined as Lawrence’s own perfectly straight locks but it was a step in the right direction. Giving himself a final once-over in the mirror, Adam set about finding the older man and getting his morning properly started.

It didn’t take much more than a step out their open bedroom door to figure out where Lawrence was. Adam heard his voice from the living room below the landing and saw him a second later, pacing back and forth in his favorite sweater (the one with the large, red HARVARD embroidered across the front, just in case anyone had any doubts about Lawrence’s pedigree) and sweatpants, on the phone and looking annoyed. Adam descended the corkscrew staircase as quietly as possible, stowing his intentions to drag Lawrence back into bed. The older man, when he saw Adam approaching, acknowledged him with a nod; a silent and temporary _good morning_ until he could end the call. Adam, mildly disappointed that he couldn’t immediately smother the older man with affection, went to make himself breakfast. As he did, he kept an ear out to figure out what had grabbed Lawrence’s attention so early this morning.

“You’re taking her to Chicago? For Christmas?”

_Alison._

The older man began pacing, one hand running through his hair as he tried to remain calm. For a brief moment, his hair was as disheveled as Adam’s normally was but it fell perfectly back into place a moment later as if nothing had happened. _Perfect to the last detail._ Things like that drove Adam a little insane from time to time; how could anyone be so infuriatingly perfect? He hated and loved Lawrence in equal measures for it, constantly stuck between wanting to slap that perfect smirk off his perfect face and wanting to drag the man to bed and never let him go. Frowning slightly as he remembered yes, that had been his original intent when he first wandered downstairs, Adam gave up on the idea and headed to the kitchen, half-listening to Lawrence argue with his ex-wife.

From what Adam could gather, Alison was taking Diana to Chicago to be with her family (obvious) and Lawrence had wanted to spend it together. That part confused him; Alison and Lawrence were on thin ice, even months after the divorce was settled. For whatever reason, the former couple could hardly string a five minute conversation together without dissolving into petty bickering. It was hard on Diana; Adam and the young girl often had to make their escape during those brief altercations, hiding out in another room and swapping imaginative stories about better lives. It’d gotten better over the months but there was still that tension. Adam heard it now, strained in the back of Lawrence’s throat.

“I understand,” Lawrence finally responded when he got the chance, “I just thought we could all spend Christmas at my family’s estate again.”

Adam stopped in his tracks, mid-pour of the freshly brewed coffee, careful not to spill on his hands (again). _Estate?_

There was another pause where Lawrence patiently listened, fingers tapping on the side of his leg; it was a tic he’d developed to keep himself from losing his temper. Adam watched him, absently appreciating how handsome the older man was, even while dealing with the disappointment of having his Christmas plans ruined. He hoped whatever was being negotiated would come to an amicable end, even if only for selfish reasons. After all, Lawrence in a good mood was easier to seduce than when he wanted to vent about his ex-wife—not that Adam wouldn’t listen, he just prefered to have a mouthful of Lawrence’s cock rather than an earful of Alison’s bullshit.

For the time being, Lawrence was occupied with glowering at the wall, waiting for his turn to speak more than listening to whatever Alison had to say, “I thought you _liked_ it.” Another impatient pause, more tapping, “... I understand. But I still want to do something with Diana.”

And thus ended Adam’s tenuous attention span. He finished pouring and dressing up his coffee, mind wandering off with ideas of what the _Gordon Estate_ must be like. He pictured a castle in the north, surrounded by snow and perched above a private lake. They probably had stables with championship horses or whatever it was that old money rich folk liked to do. That sort of opulence was so foreign to Adam that he couldn’t help but imagine cartoonish possibilities, though he doubted his imagination was far from the truth. Lawrence had told him a handful of stories of his life growing up, of the money from either side of the family, of the vacations and opportunities Adam never dreamed of having. He _wasn’t_ jealous and he _didn’t_ resent Lawrence for it but still, growing up in a motherless home, the son of a small fishing town’s doctor, saving up his money for every little thing, he did envy Lawrence slightly. He had to remind himself, again and again, that the past was the past and life as it was now was good. He was here; he was alive and living with the most wonderful man he’d ever met. And the fact the same man was rich enough to spoil him from time to time? So much the better.

They’d come such a long way together, even from just last year; Adam reflected on this as he sipped his coffee and watched Lawrence pace crookedly. Lawrence. He’d learned how to walk again and was able to return to work as a supervising surgeon; this time last year, he was so dependent on his cane, so miserable about being put on medical leave from work. They’d spent last Christmas in a quiet huddle by the fire, with barely enough decorations to fit in a small box that would eventually be shoved onto the high shelf of the new loft’s coat closet.

Adam sat at the kitchen bar and took stock, once again, of their loft which was completely covered in Christmas decorations, floor to ceiling. Lawrence, it seemed, _loved_ Christmas. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was for him last year to be separated from his family, stuck in that townhouse that was too large with pitiful decorations that only barely reminded them that it was December. They’d stayed at there for a whopping two months after officially becoming a couple before Lawrence swallowed his pride and admitted a three story brownstone, while a jewel to have in one’s portfolio, was not exactly the ideal home for the newly handicapped. Adam said nothing, only smirked, and they agreed to find a one-story loft elsewhere in the city.

The one they ended up finding was on the opposite end of Central Park and, in Adam’s opinion, it was much better. The new loft was one of those trendy, pseudo-industrial flats that was meant to look like it used to be part of a warehouse; worn floors, exposed brick, painted wrought iron, and big factory windows. It was a bit over the top but with the security of a doorman downstairs and a code to use the elevator, Adam wouldn’t complain. No more awful surprises lurking in the dark. Plus, they had enough room now for a proper studio for his photography and Lawrence’s office, which took up the small landing up the corkscrew staircase and led to their bedroom. Yes. So much better. And as nice as it all was when they moved in in April, it was a whole other thing now in the advent of Christmas. Lawrence actually surprised Adam with how far he’d taken the decorating; it seemed to be his secret passion. Christmas. How common man of him.

“Okay, talk to you soon. Bye-bye.”

Adam looked up from his coffee, pulled from his reverie by the sound of the older man’s uneven footsteps approaching him. He was then accosted by a long kiss good morning to make up for not otherwise waiting in bed for him to wake up. Adam melted a little, as always.

“Good morning,” Lawrence emphasized the message with a fond smile and another quick peck against his lips. Adam grinned.

“Hey. Christmas plans change?”

Lawrence nodded, pulling away to prepare his own cup of coffee, “I don’t know why I thought Alison would come with us. It’s just as well, my family’s kind of overwhelming.”

Adam’s smile fell for a moment. _Overwhelming?_ “So… we’re going to this ‘estate?’”

Lawrence paused, realizing yet again he’d made a lot of grand assumptions without consulting the people involved. He exhaled, frustrated with himself more than anything, and turned to Adam, “Every year my dad’s side of the family gets together at my grandparents’ estate up in Montauk.”

“Montauk,” Adam repeated.

“Montauk,” Lawrence confirmed, brow furrowed, “It’s kind of a formal dinner party with presents. The next day usually has some sort of event like a sleigh ride or something, depending on who stays and who has to leave.”

He hesitated, gauging Adam’s reaction. He seemed mildly interested, if not a little wary. Fine, Lawrence could work with that.

“Is that… How does that sound?”

“Sounds good,” Adam responded with a shrug and pushed his empty coffee mug away. Lawrence ignored it.

“You don’t have any plans with your family?”

“What family.”

Lawrence frowned, “It’s Christmas, Adam.”

“It’s December third.”

“It’s _almost_ Christmas. Don’t you think you should visit your dad?”

 _Not really._ While he was on fairly good terms with his dad, he hated to risk running into Jacob. And as a general rule, the Faulkner’s weren’t a very festive or sentimental family. Tragically, that had died with his mom somewhere around 20 years ago. As he and his brother got older, holidays came and went with less and less fuss and by the time Adam went off to college, they were acknowledged with little more than a handful of presents and a card. It worked for his family—“sad” as Lawrence seemed to think it was—largely due to his dad’s job as his hometown’s doctor by default. More than once, he’d be paged during some important moment or what have you and there was this funk that settled over the house that lasted for days. It became easier to make less of a fuss; less pain that way. Adam explained this briefly, watching Lawrence’s concern grow. He faltered slightly, knowing that Lawrence was about to get all _Lawrence_ about it and insist Adam mend some broken ties.

“It’s _Christmas._ ”

Adam groaned, covering his face and promising to call his dad. _That_ seemed to get Lawrence off his ass. At least for now.


	2. Christmas Eve (Eve)

By December 23rd, the pile of presents around the Christmas tree had grown to comical proportions. Adam noticed the growth very gradually, half wondering if he was just imagining things or if the presents were, in fact, reproducing. He asked Lawrence about this, now nervous about the few presents he was able to afford for the older man, and Lawrence just waved him off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured him but Adam was anything but. He eyed the pile again, noticing at least three more red-and-gold wrapped presents, all with  _ Adam _ neatly printed on a stick-on tag.  _ So what, he’s an accomplished present wrapper too? Jesus. _

“Those aren’t all for me.”

“The red and gold ones are,” Lawrence fussed with the dressing on their actual, living douglas fir tree. The scent was heavenly, “The blue are for Diana, the white for Alison.”

Diana had more boxes than Adam, obviously. Alison had three. Adam smugly basked in the knowledge that Lawrence loved him more before the truth came screaming back to him:  _ hey asshole, you  _ also _ got him three presents! And one of them was with his card!  _ Adam immediately felt awful as the realization hit him but not for too long. Suddenly, Lawrence turned from the tree and kissed him, one strong arm around his back, and Adam melted right into it.

“Don’t worry about the presents,” Lawrence assured him, “I like spoiling people. Especially you.”

Adam blushed deeply and shoved at his chest. Lawrence held onto him tight and planted a number of adoring kisses before Adam could shake him off, giggling with embarrassment.  _ Too easy. _

Diana and Alison came over about an hour later, just after lunch. Seeing Diana’s face light up with excitement at the sight of the Christmas haven that was the loft made Lawrence’s hours of work (and bitching at Adam for not helping) worth it. After giving her father a hug hello, then Adam, she set off to explore the space, enthralled with every detail. Alison and the two men exchanged their hellos and Adam had to note the air of good cheer. It wasn’t much or very enthusiastic but it was considerably better than every other time he and the ex-missus had run into each other. Hopefully it would last.

“Merry Christmas,” she wished them pleasantly enough. Adam nodded and Lawrence repeated the sentiment, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She allowed him, distracted by her daughter running off. Alison shot Adam a look—not an altogether unfriendly one, just a stern one. Adam tightened his jaw.

“It’s okay for her to be running around here?”

Adam frowned.

“Of course it is,” Lawrence brushed the question off smoothly, “You want some coffee? We also have hot chocolate.”

“Coffee sounds good. It’s freezing out there.”

Adam let the two go off to the kitchen and discuss the planned activities for the evening while he went to find Diana. It didn’t take too long to guess she’d run off to the guest room, which was largely her room when Lawrence had her for his long weekends. She was stood in the middle of the room, eyes wide with wonder, taking in the beautiful Christmas decor. Everywhere she looked, there was either garlands, sparkles, quilted flannel, or fake snow. It was  _ beautiful.  _ The house had never looked like this when her parents were still together. They decorated, of course, but it had never covered every inch of the house in holiday wonder like this. Touching her hand to the soft flannel of her new duvet, she lamented her real room’s sparse decoration. It was hers, of course, but it wasn’t the same.

“This is so cool,” Diana pushed both hands into the plush pillow top and looked to Adam. He could tell she wanted to stay here overnight but they both knew their schedules wouldn’t allow it. Alison had already booked their flight to Chicago and he and Lawrence had to leave early to get to his dad’s house in time for lunch. But maybe Lawrence would keep the decorations up long enough for Diana to properly enjoy them; maybe for New Year’s. He smiled at the idea, though no doubt Lawrence would be hosting another huge party for the event. Either way, something would give. He was sure of it.

“Did you and my dad do this?”

Adam shrugged, smiling crookedly, “He did most of it.”

So what was Adam’s handiwork? Diana’s eyes darted around the room, checking every detail to guess what it might be. Adam felt his chest grow tight when she pointed it out; it was obvious really, “Are those your photos?”

Adam almost blushed, “Yeah. Your dad thought they looked Christmas-y so he put them up.”

Diana seemed to agree. She paused and took in the photos one by one, hands clasped behind her back and feet together, as if she were in an art gallery. Adam watched her, eyes flicking back and forth between the neat fishtail braid and the individual photos that captured her attention, trying to see what she was seeing. Eventually, she turned back to him, ready to give her review.

“I like them. You should be in a museum.”

Adam snorted, grinning and looking away, “Nah, no way.”

“Why not? My dad said that’s what you wanted to be when you grew up.”

Adam raised his eyebrows, “I’m not grown up?”

Diana shrugged. Adam conceded the point.

“I don’t know,” He sighed, coming up to stand beside her, the gallery illusion now complete, “My grandpa did stuff like that. But his photos were  _ art.  _ Mine are just...”

“I think they’re art,” she insisted, half watching him from the corner of her eye, “They’re better than the ones in the museum,” Diana then crossed her arms over her sweater-clad chest. Adam pocketed his hands.

“When did you go to the museum?”

“My mom took me last week. We went to the spiral one.”

“The Guggenheim?”

“Something like that.”

Adam frowned, suddenly unsure if he’d gotten the name right. As he racked his mind, Diana brushed past him to explore the rest of the wonderland loft and he followed dutifully behind her. The thick rubber of her stylish snow boots thumped softly against the wood floors, a noisy prelude to the soft padding of his own sock-clad feet. He could hear the low voices of the girl’s parents in the kitchen as they mounted the spiral stairs, traipsing through Lawrence’s office. It sounded pleasant enough. Maybe a Christmas miracle was in store.

“Hey Diana,” Adam said as they went into his and Lawrence’s bedroom, “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Can I ask you another thing?” Adam paused, “After that one.”

Diana grinned, hopping up onto Adam and Lawrence’s plush, king size bed. The comforter was a wintery patchwork quilt with various Christmas themed squares, including the outline of reindeer, snowmen, and evergreen trees. It was unbelievably soft and tragically too warm for the men to get real use out of but it looked great, “Yes you may.”

Adam sat next to her, pulling his feet under himself. Diana mirrored him, hands steepled together with mock severity. Adam, in turn, copied her.

“Your dad and I are going to his family’s “estate” for Christmas,” He folded his fingers together and perched them under his chin, “Have you been there?”

“Every Christmas,” she nodded succinctly.

“What’s it like?”

Her eyes rolled skyward, recalling the memories of every Christmas in her 12 years, “There’s a ton of people. Both my mom and dad have really big families but you’re going to meet my great grandpa Liam and my great grandma Josephine. It’s their house,” she paused, twisting her mouth to the side, “There’s probably gonna be 30 people.”

Adam exhaled, feeling the weight of this settle over him like the quilt beneath them; hot, heavy, and stifling.

“Most of them are nice though,” Diana continued, sitting back and resting her weight on her hands, “Except Uncle Keith. And Patriot.”

Adam frowned, “ _ Patriot? _ Is that his dog?”

Diana snorted, covering her mouth, “No! He’s my cousin. He’s my age and he sucks.”

“Whoa!”

“It’s true! I can say it if it’s true.”

Adam had to agree.

“Uncle Keith and aunt Minnie got divorced a couple years ago,” Diana explained shortly, sighing, “She doesn’t come to the house anymore and sometimes Uncle Keith and Patriot don’t, so I don’t know if you’ll see them. But everyone else is pretty cool.”

Adam grunted, rubbing the back of his neck, “I bet they’re all really rich and successful.”

“Yeah,” Diana grinned, “You should bring your photos!”

“No way.”

She scoffed, “Whatever.”

It was then that Lawrence appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat to alert the two to his presence. Adam looked back over his shoulder, smile reappearing when he saw the older man.

“You two gossipping in here?”

“I’m warning him about Christmas.”

Lawrence chuckled, coming up behind Adam and rubbing a hand over the top of his back. Adam leaned into it slightly. He couldn’t help himself.

“It’s not going to be that bad.”

“Unless uncle Keith is there.”

Lawrence hesitated.  _ Oh. _

“Keith is…” he sighed, jaw tight, “We’ll hope for the best.”

Adam frowned at the comforter.

Then it was time for the four to go downtown. Lawrence and Alison kept the plans largely a mystery to ensure the greatest reaction in their daughter—and, to a lesser extent, Adam. Diana was fine to wait and wonder while Adam tried to guess their destination the entire train ride downtown. Lawrence gave nothing away however, sitting silently and smugly beside him, much to Adam’s frustration. He was just so fucking  _ smug _ and Adam despised him for it. Diana, meanwhile, grew gradually more and more excited as they train ride went on, partially for the fact she loved the public transit so much. She found it an exciting adventure no matter the destination; a feeling to which the three adults could not relate. But she was content to swing her legs and tap her hands on the cold, plastic bench, waiting for her parents to signal which stop was theirs. Eventually it came and the four exited the subway station into a wonderland of Christmas, snow, and the lights of the city.

Rockefeller Plaza was the picture of Christmas in New York. The lights adorning the ledges and high wires of the buildings cast a magnificent, ethereal glow over the small section of the city. Reds and greens and golds shone soft and brilliant in the small piles of snow gathered at the corners of windows and buildings, though the rainbow of string lights were mostly overshadowed by the enormous tree standing tall and proud over the ice rink. The plaza itself was bustling with activity, though considerably less so given how close Christmas was; tourists had long since come and gone, their seasonal pilgrimage to New York’s holiday sites completed. This left mostly locals and their families to enjoy the spectacle of the city in relative peace.

And what a spectacle it was.

Adam, easily the most cynical one of the bunch, was taken aback by the sight of the plaza. He’d seen it so many times before with his family and friends growing up but this time was different. Something was different, as if he was seeing it with new eyes. Everything was brighter; cheerier. More peaceful. He was overcome with wonder and for a long moment, he didn’t speak; he just watched, eyes wide, as Diana ran ahead of them, pulling her mother along by her hand. Lawrence stayed back, pulling the younger man close and kissing the top of his head. Adam snapped out of his awe almost immediately, blushing and shoving the doctor away.

“Cut it out!”

“You’re adorable,” Lawrence sighed fondly. Adam shoved him again, glad the low light of the plaza hid his flushed cheeks.

When they eventually found Diana and Alison again, the two were lacing up their ice skates; the first activity of the evening. It was all well and good until Lawrence belatedly realized that he wouldn’t be able to join them on the ice.  _ Oh right; my foot.  _ Diana was utterly distraught; ice skating with her father had long been one of her favorite things about winter. He’d taught her how to skate when she could just barely walk, holding her little waist as she found her footing. There were still pictures of these lessons somewhere in her mother’s house, sitting in silence in a forgotten shoebox. It didn’t matter too much as there were easily hundreds of similar photos throughout the years, showing the gradual progression of Diana’s skills and Lawrence’s pride in his daughter. There would be no such photos of this or last year; too much had changed.

Lawrence apologized for the oversight, knowing the excitement must have made the disappointment that much greater, but Diana was nearly unresponsive. He crouched in front of her, neck craning to meet her eyes. Thankfully, they were dry, but who knew if that would hold up. He promised then, voice soft and hands holding hers, that he would be able to make up for this next year—he just needed practice. But for now, there was just no way he’d be able to stay upright on his prosthetic; icy sidewalks in his thick, non-slip boots were tricky enough, nevermind balancing on a blade. All this aside, he insisted everyone go ahead without him—including Adam.

Of course, he protested. Not very hard or very loudly, but he protested. He and Alison weren’t exactly the best of friends after all but Lawrence wouldn’t hear it.

“Diana wants to skate with you.”

What kind of monster would say no to that?

Adam begrudgingly laced up his skates and followed the mother and daughter onto the ice with little protest after that. Lawrence watched him waddle, slip, and regain his footing, falling into the slow, counter-clockwise rotation of the skaters in the rink. It wasn’t quite perfect in many ways, but seeing the three of them together, awkwardly find their way around each other and backlit by the lights of the tree above them, Lawrence smiled. This was his family; a little broken, a little complicated, but it was his. 

And he had to figure that meant something.


	3. Christmas Eve

The next morning was Christmas Eve and that familiar feeling of joyful anticipation was heavy in the air. Even as Adam’s nerves progressively worked up into a frenzy, he found himself excited to see his dad; he hadn’t visited him since before the whole Jigsaw debacle, though they’d spoken over the phone a few times. It’d be nice to be in his company again. He was thankful that even while he and his brother remained on tense terms (to put it lightly), Adam had a good relationship with his dad.

Hopefully, he’d have that with Lawrence as well.

The older man was in similarly good spirits, even as the two embarked on the two hour road trip out to the southern coast of Long Island. Adam chalked it up to the evening before; after his and Alison’s incident on the ice, the night went rather smoothly. Gifts were exchanged and a movie was watched— _ It’s A Wonderful Life _ , one of Lawrence’s favorites—and the two guests went home with a fond “Merry Christmas” and “safe travels.” Diana was enthralled with her gifts; a starter polaroid camera from Adam and a new diary from her dad, while Alison was tensely appreciative of her own; a matching mitten and hat set from the two men. She hadn’t expected anything and thus, gave Adam nothing. Her chagrined thank you all but ensured Adam would be getting a fairly expensive apology present. He couldn’t wait.

Presently, with Lawrence’s new watch adorning his wrist (his gift from Alison), they drove through the light Christmas Eve traffic on the expressway, on through icy roads and sparse trees. The winter sea birds grew more and more in number as they approached the coast, coinciding with Adam’s growing excitement. He tried to resist babbling but as he saw landmarks, buildings, and otherwise, he couldn’t stop himself from telling Lawrence story after story about growing up in the small seaside town. Lawrence loved it; the image of Adam as a young teenager, getting into trouble, getting his first job, find his first love, was incredibly endearing. Adam told him to shut up every time he remarked as such, but Lawrence knew from the soft blush across his cheeks that he loved the attention.

Sooner than they thought, they arrived at Adam’s childhood home. It was a one-story, two bedroom house, picturesque with its aged brick walls and sparse, snowy shrubs by the front door. Adam recalled his dad setting up a tire swing on the large tree by the driveway decades ago for his two sons to play on; that was how Adam eventually ended up chipping one of his front teeth. The tire swing was taken down soon after.

Though Adam was still excited to see his dad and be home for the few short hours that they would be, his nervousness was also apparent, just below the surface. Lawrence said nothing about it; only encourage the younger man to step forward and knock.

“... Does he know about me?”

Adam was pale, eyes locked on the festive but sorely out-of-date wreath adorning the door.

“... He knows you’re coming.”

“Does he know—”

“ _ Yes.  _ Okay? He knows we’re… dating.”

Lawrence pulled his mouth to the side, “Okay.”

“That we live together, okay?? Jesus,” he huffed, face redder than it’d been the entire drive down, “I just never brought home anyone I was dating before, okay? It’s… new.”

_ Ah. _ Lawrence could work with that. He took Adam’s hand and kissed the knuckles gently, which seemed to calm him down. He wanted to ask what Adam did before, in his youth, when he snuck around with girls and boys, if he ever mentioned them to his family, or if he was even more closed off back then.

Just as Lawrence reflected on these thought, the door opened and took both of them by surprise. Instead of an older man strongly resembling Adam, it was an older woman with silver roots and auburn hair, with bright blue eyes and thin lips. She looked as startled as they were but her surprise quickly became understanding and enthusiasm.

“Oh! You must be David’s son, Jacob! You look just like him,” she paused, “A bit shorter than I remembered, actually…”

“I’m  _ Adam _ ,” he quipped, flustered and confused, “Who’re you?”

“ _ Adam _ ,” Lawrence nudged him, embarrassed. Adam ignored him.

“I’m sorry,” the older woman waved her hands, “I’m Jeanette. I live next door. Here, come in before you freeze to death. I just put on some coffee in case you came by. You’re Lawrence, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lawrence nodded politely as they entered, shaking off the light snow that clung to their jackets, “Lawrence Gordon. Sorry about him.”

Adam frowned, pulling off his winter hat almost violently.

“No, no,” Jeanette excused herself to the kitchen but called back through the house, “I totally understand. He doesn’t remember me. I’ve lived next door for the past 10 years but the boys moved out around when I moved in. Do you two want cream and sugar in your coffee?”

“Please,” Lawrence confirmed while Adam stalked through his old house moodily.  _ Where’s dad? _

“I’m sorry about the mix up, Adam,” Jeanette called out again, hands busy making two mugs of coffee for the guests, “You and your brother look so much alike.”

Lawrence didn’t have to see Adam to know he was silently snarling with disgust.

“Your dad’s out getting groceries for tonight. He thought he’d be back before you got in but he should be home soon!”

Her nervousness was evident in her voice; shaking slightly, tense in her diaphragm. Adam didn’t respond so Lawrence went to find him after calling back to Jeanette, to be polite.

He found Adam in what he assumed what his old room. It was small, dark, and cluttered with the two sons’ childhood memorabilia; old photographs, some of Adam and a man Lawrence assumed was his grandpa, some of the father, some of Jacob. The other half of the room had a few trophies—mostly the eldest son’s—and the remains of a youth spent involved in various sports. Baseball seemed to be the preferred past time, though a football and jersey suggested that Jacob’s year was split between the two seasonal sports. Adam’s material possessions seemed to largely consist of photography equipment and journals, which Lawrence had no doubt were filled with angry ranting about his older brother; maybe missing his mom or grandpa. He made a note to check, if Adam let him.

The man in question was sitting on the bottom bunk of the conjoined beds. It seemed to be his, given how he’d already tucked up into the corner like it was something familiar. Lawrence stopped in front of him, hands in his pants pockets.

“I like your room.”

Adam snorted and shrugged for Lawrence to sit as well.

“Is this about Jeanette or just being home?” he asked as he settled into the old, slightly noisy mattress.

“Her, mostly,” Adam scrunched his nose, “I remember my dad saying something about his neighbor. Probably her. I guess they’re dating.”

Lawrence raised his eyebrows at that. Adam didn’t seem inclined to discuss it further, though it was obvious the topic made him uncomfortable. Adam’s mom had passed away when he was very young and as far as Lawrence knew, David Faulkner spent the interim 20 years working and taking care of his sons. A little late-in-life romance made sense but knowing Adam, this evening might not be an easy one.

“I love you,” Lawrence said simply and Adam smiled.

-

David returned from the store not too much later—about half a cup of coffee’s worth. Adam grinned like nothing else when he saw him, jumping up to help him put the grocery bags in the kitchen at the other end of the house. Lawrence and Jeanette stayed put in the living room where the three had been talking, patiently waiting for their turns to speak to David after Adam had caught up with his father. This consisted of a long hug, some playful jibes, and a brief, private moment concerning Adam’s survival.

“No, seriously, I’m okay.”

“You were  _ shot. _ ”

Adam snorted breathlessly, eyes down, but nodded. He motioned to his right shoulder, not as strong as it once was but far better than it had been. He'd want to check it out later, but for now, David seemed satisfied. He turned to the living room where the two other guests sat, biding their time.

“And you must be Dr. Gordon.”

Lawrence smiled a bit awkwardly, standing from the sofa, coffee cold and forgotten.

“Yes, hello,” he motioned, approaching the man, “Dr. Faulkner.”

“You can call me David,” he turned to his son, “I didn’t expect him to be so much older.”

Both Adam and Lawrence froze, both white as the snow outside. David held his stern expression a moment before laughing and approaching said “older man” for a firm, welcoming handshake. Lawrence coughed nervously, now beet red, and Adam caught himself on the kitchen counter rather than collapsing onto the linoleum floor.

“I kid,” David laughed easily but then stopped, looking down at Lawrence’s hand. Lawrence blinked, throat too dry to ask what the matter was, “You got city hands, Dr. Gordon,” he met the man’s eye sharply, over the top of his glasses, “You’ve been counting money all your life.”

Lawrence was once again chilled to his core, barely stammering out a response to the insightful slight, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of Adam’s uproarious laughter from the kitchen. Something had happened but he had no idea what. David flashed another grin, then a wink.

“You startle easily?”

Lawrence’s throat cracked drily, so he settled for shrugging.

“Dad, not everyone watches  _ Jaws _ obsessively like you do,” Adam finally rejoined them from the kitchen, groceries put away and bags stored for later use. He turned to Lawrence, “It’s what Quint says to Hooper when they first meet.”

Lawrence exhaled sharply and it almost sounded like a laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been struck speechless; maybe he was more nervous than he thought. David barely acknowledged it, instead going over to Jeanette to properly say hello. It wasn’t more than a quick kiss on the cheek but Adam was visibly disturbed, albeit briefly.

“Sit down, sit down, your hazing’s over,” David waved his hand as he took his own seat in the faded recliner in the corner, “How was the drive?”

“Not bad,” Adam answered for Lawrence, who’d actually done the driving. Adam didn’t have a license.

“How long are you two here for?”

“Until tomorrow,” Lawrence had finally recovered, settling into the sofa yet again and running a hand over his face. It still felt warm, “My family has a place in Montauk that I visit every year.”

“Montauk,” David parroted, considering the idea, “You rich?”

Adam rolled his eyes. Lawrence tried to hide his amused smile.

“The family is.”

“And so is he,” Adam insisted, “He’s the head of the oncology department at NewYork-Presbyterian.”

“Kudos,” David nodded.

“Adam said you’re a doctor too,” Lawrence glanced to the younger man briefly, confirming this, as if their introduction hadn’t included titles.

“Yep,” the older man nodded again, rocking slightly in his chair, “Been the town’s GP for the last 20 years.”

Lawrence whistled, low and impressed, “That’s quite a claim.”

“It’s pretty easy when your town has less than 20,000 people,” David smiled, cleaning his glasses nonchalantly. Jeanette, perched in the opposite corner in her own chair, had taken up some knitting. Adam watched her, wondering what else she’d moved into the house, along with a million other questions, “But I prefer it to working in a hospital. Did that for a while when the kids were young but having your own practice is a whole ‘nother bear. Never was the head of any department. You enjoy it?”

Lawrence smiled modestly, “It’s just for the last five years but yes, absolutely. Unfortunately, I had to step back from surgery after…” he nodded to his foot but was unsure of how much David might know. The older man nodded, glasses now back in place on his nose.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” he ventured, a bit boldly, “Could I see your amputation?”

“Dad!” Adam sat up sharply, eyes wide and horrified. Lawrence just raised his eyebrows; he hadn’t heard that one before. David just laughed, hands up defensively.

“Only if he doesn’t mind! I’ve been curious about how your doctors handled your surgery ever since I saw it on the news. Hacksaw amputations are pretty rare outside of Civil War reenactments.”

Adam was mortified. Lawrence, for all his open disdain for his prosthetic, gave him the okay. Adam excused himself quickly, not out of squeamishness, but for the fact that he felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin. Jeanette, politely squeamish, escaped to the kitchen with him.

Lawrence made quick work of his prosthetic, the straps being second nature to him now, and presented the remainder of his leg to his fellow doctor. David, now sitting next to him on the sofa, examined the work critically. His glasses sat high on his nose, eyes squinting.

“They had to cut more away to clean up the hacksaw’s damage,” Lawrence explained, bringing his other leg up to demonstrate where the cut had been. He gestured around his ankle, just above where the shackle had sat. David nodded.

“How fast?”

“About 20 seconds.”

The older man whistled, “Quick work. Very impressive.”

Lawrence snorted, a bit flattered in a strange way. David paused, the quiet mirth now gone from his features. It was another moment before he spoke, low and serious.

“You shot him, didn’t you?”

All the blood drained from Lawrence’s face. David just looked at him, silent and damning. Lawrence felt completely exposed, as if he had been split open under an operation lamp and David was sifting through almost 40 years of experiences, secrets, lies, and regrets.

“L-look, I understand if you can’t forgive me,” Lawrence finally managed, his throat dry, “I can’t forgive myself; everytime I see the scars, every time he wakes up crying because of the nightmares. I can’t stand to see him like that... But I’m trying. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to him.”

“Looks like you’re doing the work of both of us,” David interjected. His eyes were still cold as he looked over the top of his glasses at the younger man, “I understand the situation. But don’t ever hurt my son again.”

“Of course,” Lawrence replied, a bit breathlessly.

And like that, the tension was gone. Or at least, it had left David. He rose, clapping his hands together, and called for Jeanette to get the stove warmed up so he could get dinner started. Lawrence focused on getting air back into his lungs before attempting to reattach his prosthetic. By the time he got it over the end of his leg again, Adam had returned to the couch, looking about as pale as his partner. Apparently Jeanette was a nervous talker and, apparently, she’d divulged a bit too much about David’s and her relationship. Seeing the younger man come to terms with the fact his 60 year old father was sexually active made Lawrence feel a little better. He laughed and kissed Adam’s hair.

“C’mon you two,” David called from the kitchen, “I’m not doing all the work here.”

—

Another family dinner, all the more reason to resent the holidays. That being said, it went better than Adam had expected. He wasn’t sure why but he’d been convinced his dad would give Lawrence the third degree, as if they were teenagers and he controlled who Adam dated. It wasn’t like that at all; he and Lawrence spoke as equals, with the occasional good-natured jab at the younger doctor. Lawrence, charmer that he was, seemed almost relaxed during the whole ordeal, from cooking to plating to cleaning up again. Adam was impressed, though not entirely surprised. Lawrence could charm a snake with just his smile and, let’s face it, his dad wasn’t a cobra. Far from it, obviously. The man’s most frequent patients were children and grandparents. If David Faulkner had any rough edges, they’d worn down long ago.

That was one of the many ways he’d originally courted Adam’s mom, as he explained over dinner. Adam kept an eye on Jeanette throughout the discussion of his late mother, looking for any discomfort or guilt. There was some, hidden in the crinkles of her eyes, but she kept it to herself.

“I wouldn’t say she was mean,” David laughed quietly, mostly to himself, “But God, what a temper. She’s probably where the boys got theirs.”

Adam snorted. Lawrence said nothing.

“I mean, she was a New York girl. Her pride was everything and damn if anyone said anything against her or her own. Eventually she let me fall into that latter category, which was nothing short of a miracle.”

David sighed, remembering the girl that’d stolen his heart nearly 40 years ago, temper, fire, and everything. Adam recognized the look as the same one Lawrence got when he was thinking about the younger man, usually followed with a succinct, “You’re cute,” or, “I love you.” Adam blushed furiously at the revelation.

“She developed breast cancer almost out of nowhere. I still don’t know how I missed the signs,” David frowned, eyes downcast, “Maybe I didn’t want to see them.”

“Dad,” Adam interjected, fist tight as his voice.

“Right, I’m sorry,” the older man waved his hand, sitting up straight again, “It still gets to me, even after all this time. Adam wasn’t even 10 when she passed away. You remember her though, right?”

“Of course I do,” Adam’s voice was smaller than Lawrence had heard it in a long time. It reminded him of the hospital, when he first woke up after countless surgeries and a brief coma. Lawrence wanted to hold his hand but settled for a sympathetic look, “But, you know. It happened.”

“Sure did,” his father almost scoffed, “But we’ve managed since then. Not that the boys weren’t a handful and a half. God, when you want to talk about  _ fights. _ ”

“He started them.”

“I know, I know,” David lifted his glasses just enough to run his other hand over his eyes, “Do you have any siblings, Lawrence?”

Lawrence paused before smiling wryly, “Ah, no. My parents were the only ones in their respective families not to have 3 or more kids. But all my cousins followed suit though so family reunions are pretty chaotic.”

“An only child with a big family,” David steepled his hands, “Don’t see that too much. But that’s where you two are going tomorrow?”

“To my paternal grandparents’ estate in Montauk, yes.”

David and Adam simultaneously mouthed the word to each other for reasons entirely unknown to Lawrence. Jeanette seemed just as lost but breezed past it gracefully, “Is Jacob coming over?”

David huffed under his breath at the notion of his oldest son paying him a visit for any reason other than tapping into the First National Bank of David Faulkner. Adam rolled his eyes for the same reason, though it was well-known his branch of the bank was significantly underfunded, even if sponsored by the Gordon estate. Their last altercation had clarified that point succinctly enough. Adam’s eye throbbed faintly at the memory.

“Don’t count on it,” David answered with a weary sigh, as if the revelation of his oldest son’s selfishness was in any way a new one, “Maybe a call tomorrow night but I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s the Faulkner Condition.”

Lawrence frowned, unsure what this meant. Adam seemed annoyed—or more annoyed—at the implication but to be honest, he wasn’t much better than his brother. He was just more upfront about it.

Thankfully the conversation lightened up after dinner, when everyone either had a cup of coffee, hot cocoa, or a plate of pie (unless you were Adam and you tried to grab everything). They sat in the living room again, respective desserts either resting comfortably on a side table or in their laps, and the two youngest huddled up together on the long-worn living room couch. David was fiddling with the tv, trying to get his new dvd player to work, while Jeanette hovered over him, not being much help. When they did figure it out, the movie David had selected came roaring to life in all it’s newly printed, recolored, and remastered glory.

“ _ Miracle on 34th Street _ ,” Lawrence repeated the title as it faded away to play the feature film. Adam shifted beside him for about the hundredth time, struggling to balance the pie and cocoa in his lap.

“Christmas tradition,” Adam shrugged and adjusted his position yet again. His goal seemed to be to have as much physical contact with Lawrence as possible (but that was nothing new).

Unfortunately, his dad and Jeanette seemed to have the same idea, albeit to a much tamer extent. They were about 20 minutes into the movie—enough time for everyone to be lost in the yesteryear charm—when Adam noticed how close Jeanette was sitting to his father. Not only that, but her head was resting against his and his arm was wrapped around her shoulders. If it were anyone else, it would’ve been a heartwarming scene of late-in-life love. However, Adam couldn’t see the forest for the trees and was both extremely uncomfortable and horrified. He was just about to speak up when Lawrence, sensing this, pulled him right up against his side, Adam’s head falling onto his shoulder reflexively; a surefire way to silence whatever obnoxious comment Adam might’ve otherwise uttered.

_ Leave it alone. _

He did but he was sure it’d come up again, and again, and again. It was just so foreign seeing his dad like this; being a  _ person _ with a need for companionship. He knew he was being ridiculous though. So for now, he let it go, ignored his father's hand on Jeanette's thigh, and focused on the familiar warmth and smell of Lawrence’s presence.

By the time the movie ended, the world had faded into a deep, dark silence. Adam had fallen asleep (another Christmas tradition) and Lawrence did his best to wake him gently. It was clearly time for bed. David and Jeanette agreed, similarly groggy, and after Adam’s brief confusion when waking up, the two bid them goodnight and went off to bed.

Adam’s energy suddenly returned when he realized he was able to snag the top bunk. That’d always been Jacob’s, even when the older sibling was off at college; Adam was barely allowed to look at it, let alone set foot in it. As soon as he changed and ready for bed, he sprinted up the ladder, taking the steps two at a time, and fell back against the plush, extra long twin mattress. Lawrence watched him, caught between amusement and mild disappointment. It’d been a long time since they slept in separate beds. Reasoning that there was no comfortable way for two grown men to share mattresses of this size, Lawrence settled into the lower bunk. It wasn't even 10 seconds before Adam swung half his body over the side of the bunk, peering at Lawrence like a giddy owl. Lawrence grinned, sitting up in the bed.

“This is really big for you, isn’t it.”

“ _ Dude. _ ”

Lawrence laughed and leaned up to kiss Adam good night. Their noses brushed as they parted and Lawrence relished the brief intimacy. He reminded himself that they would share a bed tomorrow night, in one of the many guest rooms at his family’s estate.  _ That _ would be something. He couldn’t wait to see Adam’s face when they got there.

Sleep came easily to the doctor while the photographer tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling, mind flooded with memories of growing up in this room. Of course, it was different now. Normally, he would be staring at the support beams of the bunk he was currently lying on, listening to his brother’s even breath and occasional snores until he fell similarly unconscious. Now it was replaced with Lawrence’s soft snores—ones he’d grown to love, even need to fall asleep. Unfortunately, he’d also grown to need the older man’s presence by his side to feel safe. It just wasn’t the same anymore.

Mentally saying  _ fuck it _ , Adam descended the ladder, ending with a soft thud when his feet met the carpet. Lawrence was sleeping on his back, one arm up, hand under the pillow, and the other curled gently over his stomach. Adam ran his teeth over his lower lip before climbing in with him, his back to Lawrence’s hip, shoulders tense as he felt the older man stir. The didn’t say much beyond huffing a small, amused sound before rolling to his side, arm over Adam’s chest, bringing him flush against his larger body.

“Missed me?”

“Shut up,” Adam grunted into his fist. As expected, the bed was barely big enough to accommodate the two of them but thankfully they weren’t shy of cuddling close. It was so  _ nice;  _ Lawrence’s warmth, his breath against Adam’s hair as he breathed, his warm hand tracing over the younger man’s chest, ribs, stomach… Adam shivered and shifted against him, feeling Lawrence’s fingers wander over the elastic of his pajama pants. His heart began to race with excitement and Lawrence dipped his fingers under the band, combing gently over the coarse hair of Adam’s groin. Adam shifted again, pressing his ass back against Lawrence’s groin, to encourage the exploration. Lawrence huffed quietly, sounding amused, and wasn’t that just like him? Adam huffed, annoyed, and looked over his shoulder. Lawrence, that asshole, was smirking.

“You’re adorable.”

“You always say that.”

“Well, it’s always true,” Lawrence hummed, pressing more fully against his back and kissing the top of his ear. His hand delved further into Adam’s pants, brushing over the length of his cock and Adam exhaled sharply, legs opening just a fraction wider.

The bed being as cramped as it was, they had to move very strategically in order to make this work. Adam’s pants were haphazardly shoved down his thighs in order to give Lawrence the best mobility to work the younger man’s cock. Adam, meanwhile, ground back against the older man, which seemed to work for Lawrence. It was rushed, hushed, and awkward, but they loved it. Soon enough, they were both flushed and panting, bodies moving roughly together in a reckless rhythm. Adam reached behind his head to pull Lawrence closer, mouths sliding messily against each other in a makeshift kiss. Lawrence groaned, hips thrusting in tandem with Adam’s, cock rutting against the crease of his ass. The friction from his own underwear was both frustrating and exciting; he felt like a teenager again, fooling around in the dark, messy and quick. It was never as good as this, though. 

Not long after, Adam made a beautifully choked sound and shuddered, coming messily over Lawrence’s hand. Lawrence groaned into his mouth, hips now bucking hard and rough, until he followed suit. Immediately he regretting not taking the chance to shuffle his own boxers down; the stain would likely be a stubborn one.

Accepting his fate, Lawrence ducked his head against Adam’s neck and kissed a path to his ear, making the younger man squirm. He slapped at Lawrence’s hand, still on his groin, clearly overstimulated, but Lawrence drew the torture on a bit more, relishing in Adam’s mild distress. He could never resist messing with Adam.

The silence after the act was comfortable and sleepy. Lawrence was dozing off despite the cooling mess in his underwear and Adam seemed to be right behind him. He almost didn’t hear the exhausted giggle a minute later.

“That’s the first time I’ve had sex in here.”

—

Lawrence had been right about his boxers. They were nothing short of a disgusting mess to deal with when he woke up the next morning and, with a great deal of self-loathing, he resigned to chucking them in the trash when no one would notice. It made the walk to the house’s only bathroom more than a little awkward, especially when he bumped into David.

“Morning, doctor,” he nodded with a mock stuffiness that reminded Lawrence of his colleagues back in the city, “You two sleep alright in those bunks?”

“Surprisingly well, yeah,” Lawrence nodded. He hoped his cool exterior would deter too much conversation.

“Not quite big enough for two, is it,” the older man winked. Lawrence frowned and stood a fraction straighter, unsure of how to proceed. He hadn’t thought they’d been terribly loud but then again, they shared a wall with the master bedroom and the decades-old bunks weren’t exactly silent. They may have even hit the wall once or twice—Lawrence tried hard to recall but failed, knowing he’d only been focused on Adam at the time.

For better or worse, David said nothing more and moved along, presumably heading to the kitchen to get breakfast started. Lawrence wasn’t sure if he was relieved. Whatever, he had a pair of boxers to pitch and a shower to run; he’d stress over his would-be father-in-law’s knowledge of his sex life another time.

Adam woke up sometime after, still exhausted from the lack of real sleep. He enjoyed being as close as humanly possible to Lawrence but there was a difference between cuddling in their king bed at home and scrunching together on a twin here. His back and shoulder were killing him and he walked like Frankenstein’s monster the whole way to the kitchen. He perked up when he smelled the breakfast his dad was making—pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Coffee first though. Adam yawned forcefully, eyes watering, as he poured himself a cup. His dad just smirked, flipping yet another stack of pancakes onto a plate.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Adam yawned again, swearing under his breath. His dad shot him a look but continued setting the table.

“Sleep well?”

“Not really,” Adam stretched his back as he approached the table. His spine popped in a few places and he groaned with relief, “The beds are a lot smaller than I remember.”

“Especially with two people in them.”

Adam blushed and scowled slightly, “We slept in different beds.”

“Uh-huh,” David smirked, “So did Jeanette and I.”

“Dad! Jesus!”

“ _ Language. _ ”

Old routines die hard. Adam huffed and dropped himself into his chair at the table, simultaneously humiliated and scandalized. His dad hadn’t been so transparent while they were growing up but then again, he hadn’t had much of a personal life. Taking care of Jacob and Adam while heading his own practice had taken over his life and while he never seemed unhappy, Adam couldn’t imagine it was the life his dad had wanted. So fine, yes, he could date someone again, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about it.

“So, on that note,” his father sat next to him, his own plate of food and mug of coffee ready to be enjoyed, “How’s the old guy?”

Adam snorted into his coffee, burning his lips.  _ Shit. _

“He’s cool,” Adam eventually confirmed, clearing his throat.

“Yeah?”

Adam nodded, feeling his face grow hot. There was a reason he never made habit of introducing his significant others to his dad; the questions, while easy enough, mortified him.

“You two been together almost a year now, right?”

“Our anniversary’s at the beginning of February.”

“Romantic,” David smiled, mostly to himself, and Adam contemplated jumping out the window. Then again, this was a one story house. The damage would be minimal. Thank God there were two doctors in the house, “You drop the L bomb yet?”

“Lesbians?”

“ _ Adam. _ ”

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes, “We’re in love, we live together, it’s a fairytale romance.”

“I don’t care if you’re being sarcastic,” David sipped his coffee, contemplating throwing his son out the window, “I’m glad you’re happy. I’ve been so worried about you. Both of you, of course, but especially you,” he set down his mug, growing somber, “Ever since I saw your name on the news…”

“Dad,” Adam interrupted sharply. He couldn’t have this conversation on Christmas, “I’m okay.”

“But you almost weren’t! Hell, if it hadn’t been for Lawrence, you would’ve died in that bathroom. We wouldn’t know where you were or what had happened! I can’t stop thinking about it. I love you so much; the thought of you, alone…”

“I’m okay,” Adam insisted, voice now quiet. The hours he’d spent in the dark, waiting, wondering if he was going to die there… He scrunched his face, shaking his head, “Can we just… not talk about this today?”

“Fine,” the older man held his hands up in concession, “But I want to. Eventually. It’s not healthy to keep things like this bottled up. That’s what I did when your mother passed away.”

Adam rubbed at his eyes, feigning exhaustion, but in reality fighting tears.  _ No. _ He would not cry.

“I’m not,” he promised, voice breaking just enough, “I’ve been talking to Lawrence since day one. And Dan. They’re both—”

“Which one’s Dan?”

Adam stopped, mouth tight and brow low and fixed. This conversation again.

“The tall guy with the big ears.”

“Looks like Alan Tudyk?”

“How do you know who Alan Tudyk is?”

David chuckled, sitting back, “Jeanette’s got me hooked on this new tv show he’s on. It’s called… what is it… Firefly! You seen it?”

Adam almost choked, hand over his mouth, “Ach—er, yeah. Yeah. You like it?”

“Oh sure. That black girl’s amazing. Reminds me of your mom.”

“How far are you?”

“Halfway through season 1, I think. Jeanette’s keeping me in the dark. It’s a hell of a show though.”

_ Poor bastard. _

“But, to the point,” David sat up again, “Lawrence. You’re happy with him?”

“ _ Yes,  _ dad. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Hey, I don’t know,” he raised his hands again, head shaking, “You’re such a closed book, it’s hard to know what’s going on with you.”

“Well I’ll do better at that.”

David stopped, eyebrow cocked, “Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“No pitching a fit? No telling me to mind my own business?”

So Adam wasn’t the perfect son. As his dad said, he was closed off growing up, self-esteem too low to consider that there were people who’d care about what he had to say. But a lot had changed between then and now. Now he had a partner who not only assured him of this, but encouraged him to venture into emotional vulnerability and Adam found despite the fear, it was worth it, more or less. His dad was a good man; honest, loving, hard-working. Adam could stand to let him get closer than they’d been. He owed it to him as much as himself.

Instead of explaining this, Adam just nodded and smiled a little crookedly. That was enough for David.

Breakfast came and went, followed by a brief exchange of presents. Adam got a portfolio, bound in leather and his name etched in gold cursive. He said it would be useful when submitting his work to buyers and museums, leaving Adam speechless. Lawrence received a leather satchel with enough room to carry the massive folders and files he carted to and from the office on a daily basis. His initials were printed over the top clasp, a tasteful  _ LG. _ Adam snorted, mildly disappointed that his dad hadn’t known Lawrence’s middle name was Emmett.

Their things packed and ready to go, Adam slung his backpack over his shoulder and hugged his dad good bye. He promised to call, or at least text, a lot more in the coming new year. Whether or not he would make good on this promise, it meant the world to David.

“Alright, you two drive safe. I’ll—” the older man stopped, staring passed Lawrence and Adam, at his driveway where a shiny black Civic was pulling in. Adam turned, the question dying on his lips as he saw who got out of the car.

_ Jacob. _

“What’s up, family!” his older brother called, waving his hands, “Merry Christmas!”

“What the  _ fuck,”  _ Adam breathed, only to be smacked upside the head by his father. Lawrence shifted, instinctively moving to stand in front of Adam.

“Hey, little brother!” Jacob grinned as he approached the three of them standing on the front porch, just shy of the snow. Lawrence and Adam recoiled an inch or so while David kept his ground; it’s not like he was afraid of his son at any rate. Not like Adam was.

“Merry Christmas, Jacob,” Adam ground out, “We were actually just about to leave.”

“Wow, what timing. But hey, this must be Mr. Money Bags, huh?” Jacob grabbed one of Lawrence’s hands, pulling him into a firm, if intimidating, handshake, “Jacob Faulkner, obviously. You’re Larry Gordon?”

“ _ Lawrence _ Gordon, yes.”

“I getchya,” Jacob winked and nodded to his brother, “I hate when he calls me Jake. Same boat. But it looks like you two are hitting the road?”

“We have to get to my family’s estate in Montauk.”

“Montauk,” Jacob repeated.

“Why does everyone keep doing that??”

“Well, have a great time out there. Don’t get too many paper cuts counting your money,” Jacob approached the door, stopping off to crowd his little brother before properly greeting his dad, “Right, Adam?”

Without another word, Adam headbutted Jacob right back into the snow. Lawrence and David stood motionless, wearing matching expressions of horror. Jacob stumbled back up, holding his head and swearing viciously. The backpack he was wearing had broken most of his fall, saving him from having to shake off the snow from his expensive new overcoat (or so he’d later claim). Gloves metaphorically off, he charged at Adam, tackling him over the line of small shrubs to the other side of the yard. David yelled at them to knock it off, mortification settling over him. No one was outside to witness the chaos, thankfully, but that could change. They’d done this before; it was humiliating every time.  _ Geez, Dave, those boys getting to be too much for you? _

Presently, the two  _ grown adults _ were shoving at each other and screaming like children, rolling in the snow, clawing at each other. Lawrence attempted to pull them off of each other but it was like inserting oneself into the middle of a dog fight; you were bound to be bitten.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swore under his breath, feeling as powerless as David was on the porch, hand running over his forehead. Resignation was settling in.

It was then Adam and Jacob were able to stand, jaws swollen and a line of blood trickling from a split lip (Jacob’s). Lawrence was relieved; maybe this bullshit was finally over. But then he saw both brothers, mirroring each other, throw their shoulders to get their backpacks in hand. He realized what they were doing a split second before it happened; before they simultaneously collided the heavy packs with each other’s heads, knocking them both back into the snow.

And that was that. David and Lawrence rushed to help up Jacob and Adam, respectively, wished each other a restful holiday, and made their escapes before the brothers could recover. Adam was still moaning groggily about his asshole sibling as they drove off, headed for Montauk. Lawrence just hoped he wouldn’t bitch the entire way.


	4. Christmas

It took a little over two hours to reach the estate, perched on the far end of the island on its own, expansive property. Adam had fallen asleep about halfway through the drive, his head aching from the impact of Jacob’s backpack, and from the uncomfortable sleeping arrangement the night before. Lawrence was fine with it, watching the younger man sleep with his arms crossed over his chest, head against the window, as he filled up on gas. He knew Adam would have a hell of an evening ahead of him, what with the massive amount of people he would soon meet and break bread with. But it would be fine. Of course it would be. He just had to keep telling himself that.

Eventually, they reached the outskirts of the estate and Lawrence took the opportunity to reach over and jostle Adam awake. The younger man was perturbed by this, sitting up with a startled inhale, eyes wide and darting around.

“Wh-what, what is it?”

“We’re almost there,” Lawrence smiled broadly, eager to see the look on Adam’s face when they pulled in.

It didn’t disappoint.

Beyond just being surprised at being awake, Adam was struck speechless by the enormity of the estate. The driveway alone seemed endless, winding through a thick forest, dotted by snow-covered bushes and a handful of lights strewn across bare branches. The house at the end of it was something out of Adam’s imagination. There was no way around it: it was a mansion. Lawrence had been surprisingly modest in his description.

“Are we at Hogwart’s?” Adam gaped at the raw cobblestone exterior as Lawrence parked the car. The older man laughed, killing the engine.

“It’s a lot homier on the inside. But I want to warn you: there are a lot of people here. Let me know if you get overwhelmed.”

Adam scoffed, grabbing his backpack from the floor and following Lawrence inside. Sure, the house was a monstrous estate and yeah, Diana had said there would be 30 people or more, but it wouldn’t be that bad. It’s not like they’d be the center of attention.

_ Right? _

Immediately upon opening the front door, Lawrence was bombarded by what could only be described as a mob of children of varying ages. They were yelling excitedly, grabbing at Lawrence or otherwise shoving to get at him.

“Uncle Lawrence!” They all cried at random times. Their voices quickly became a cacophony  before Lawrence quieted them down, crouching to their levels for individual hugs.

“Hey everyone,” he chuckled, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Lawrence!” They chirped back. Adam snorted, fighting a broad smile. He’d never been great with kids besides Diana but Lawrence was a natural, even in the face of six screaming children.

“Where’s Diana?” one child about her age asked. He had curly black hair that bounced wildly, partially obscuring his vision.

“She’s in Chicago with Aunt Alison’s family. But don’t worry, she’ll be back next year.”

“She wasn’t here  _ last Christmas _ ,” a younger one whined; a girl with slick, brown hair tied into neat braids.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Lawrence patted the top of her head gently as she flashed the most cartoonishly sad expression Adam had ever seen, “Last year was very hard for us. We were going through a lot—”

“You mean when you got kidnapped by that psychopath,” a new voice called from the back and the group turned, seeing an older girl of about 17 standing a few feet away. She had large, dark eyes and a pouty little mouth; the picture of teenage angst.

“ _ Thank you,  _ Diamond,” Lawrence drawled patiently, “Where’s your sister?”

She shrugged, “Wherever there’s wine, probably,” Diamond, as she was apparently called, then turned her attention to Adam, who was all but plastered against the hand-cut glass of the front door, “Who’re you?”

Lawrence stood sharply, saving Adam the trouble of responding, “Oh yeah. Everyone, this is my friend Adam. He’s spending Christmas with us this year. Adam, these are my nieces and nephews; Cheyenne, Jacklynn, Adrienne, James, Chester, Kyle, and Diamond.”

“My sister’s Ruby,” Diamond added, “Because my parents hate us.”

“No, uh,” Adam cleared his throat and gestured broadly to her, “Diamond’s a nice name. It’s classy.”

The teen snorted, arms tightly crossed under his chest, but she smiled slightly.

“Thanks. How old are you?”

“I’m 28—”

“Okay, hey,” Lawrence grabbed his and Adam’s luggage from the ground and gestured past Diamond, up the lavish staircase covered in long fir garlands and lights, “Let’s get our stuff settled in our room. Why don’t all of you go tell the grown ups Uncle Lawrence is here?”

Enthralled with the idea of having a mission, the six children ran off, their little feet clattering against the polished hardwood floor. Adam followed Lawrence up the aforementioned staircase, though he felt Diamond’s eyes on his back the whole way up. Checking over his shoulder as they reached the second floor, he saw her smile beneath her bangs, her dark eyes locked onto him.

_ Fuck. _

He couldn’t worry about that right now, however, not when he was surrounded by a veritable orgy of Christmas decor. That’s probably where Lawrence got his design taste, Adam decided as they eventually found the room they would be staying in. If the hallway was Christmas, the room itself was the North Pole. Everything from the walls, the curtains, the pictures on the wall, to the four poster bed was completely covered in Holiday themed decorations. Adam exhaled, entranced and awestruck.

“Now you know why I decorated the apartment like I did,” Lawrence chuckled, throwing his suitcase onto the bed, “I’m not as bad as my grandparents though. They do this for every holiday. But then again, they have help to decorate this whole place.”

“They live here year-round?” Adam wasn’t sure why he assumed this was strictly a vacation home. Surely no one  _ lived _ like this. But Lawrence confirmed, yes, his family was just that fucking rich.

“Like I said, it’s the family estate. It’s been remodeled over the years but it’s been in our family for a couple generations,” he paused in his unpacking, looking to Adam, who was still stood at the doorway and clutching his backpack like a lost child, “You doing okay?”

“You’re  _ rich _ , dude.”

“Yeah.”

Adam rolled his eyes. Lawrence didn’t get it. He shouldn’t be surprised.

“Whatever, I’ll get used to it.”

“You’re rich too, you know.”

“Don’t tell me I’m rich in friends or love or something, I’ll actually kill you.”

Lawrence laughed, settling onto the bed and beckoning Adam to join him. After a moment’s hesitation, Adam complied and followed his first instinct to crawl into Lawrence’s lap. This surprised him but he quickly adjusted, sitting up close and wrapping his arms around Adam’s lower back. The younger man mirrored this, wrapping his arms around Lawrence’s neck and leaning in for a kiss. It was a nice, slow, drawn out kiss that ended when Lawrence dipped his hands down the back of Adam’s jeans, squeezing his ass appreciatively. There wasn’t time for that now, but Adam was enticed by the idea of fucking Lawrence in this massive, Christmas-covered bed.

“So I’m your  _ ‘friend’ _ Adam?” he teased when they parted and Lawrence kissed a path down his neck.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Lawrence mumbled apologetically between sucking kisses onto his throat. Adam shivered, shifting his hips a little, feeling them grow tight.

“Whatever, dude,” he breathed, hands buried in Lawrence’s hair. He wasn’t about to pick apart Lawrence’s identity in front of his family. After all, rich people were pretty stuck up in tradition, or so Adam had been led to believe.

After Lawrence had properly felt Adam up, they returned downstairs to find the whole family socializing in the massive living room, mostly centered around the equally massive tree. Adam was quickly awestruck again by the sight of the thing, towering above him and reaching into the space of the second floor (thank god for high ceilings). A few of the adults Lawrence’s age acknowledged their arrival, welcoming them into the fold and pressing drinks into their hands. Spiked hot chocolate. Adam was indescribably grateful.

“Lawrence!” one of the men who bore the closest familial resemblance gave him a quick hug. Lawrence introduced him as Chad (married to Blake, who was heavily pregnant and busy hushing her young daughter, Adrienne), “Glad you made it this year, cuz. It wasn’t the same without you last year. Alison and Diana alright?”

“Yeah, just off in Chicago.”

“Right, right, the divorce. Sorry about all that.”

“No, hey,” Lawrence waved it off smoothly, “It’s for the best.”

Chad nodded in agreement before turning to Adam. He all but grabbed his hand, shaking it vigorously enough to dislodge Adam’s arm from its socket, “But you! Adam, right? It’s good to meet you. You’re the guy from the whole… situation last year, right?”

“Yeah, another victim,” Adam half-joked. Lawrence grimaced into his hot chocolate. There would be a lot of this conversation.

“We can talk about that stuff later,” Chad waved dismissively, almost a perfect imitation of his cousin, “But you two relax, settle in, we’ll do the Christmas stuff when Grandma Josephine gets downstairs.”

_ Relax.  _ How could Adam relax when he was being introduced to 30 fucking people? Most of the names went in one ear and out the other, even with the brief biographies Lawrence supplied. 

There was his uncle Graham and aunt Marilyn, who both reeked of old money, and their children: Briana, married to Parker and an accomplished writer; Jackson, a journalist; Chad, a Wall Street broker, with his wife Blake. Then there was Todd, married into the family though tragically his wife, Lawrence’s aunt Lilith, died a few years ago. Their oldest was John, married to Julia, who worked for Todd’s successful accounting firm, and their daughters Diamond and Ruby; Amanda, legally partnered with Skye, who recently adopted a baby called Minh; and Keith, who was not yet here but apparently bringing his son Patriot after dealing with his ex-wife Minnie; apparently she wasn't much of a joy either. Finally, there was Lawrence’s uncle Robert and his wife Felicia, both world-famous environmental activists. Their children were Charles, a research pathologist, married to Taylor, a lawyer who was pregnant with their first child; James, a police commissioner, his wife Brenna, and their daughter James; finally, their youngest, Victoria, who Adam was most eager to meeting. She was a photographer for National Geographic , as if that wasn't his actual dream job. He stammered pathetically upon making her acquaintance, ignoring the way Lawrence grinned beside him. All he could think to say was how cool her job must be, as if that weren't the dumbest thing possible.

“Yeah, it pays the bills,” she smiled politely, and Adam wanted to scream with jealousy.

“Adam’s a photographer too, actually,” Lawrence nudged the younger man, encouraging him to talk about himself. Adam shook his head with a nervous laugh, though Victoria had clearly perked up.

“Really? I’d love to see some of your work.”

“No way,” Adam laughed, face red, “I work part time for a tabloid, it’s pulp shots at best. Seriously.”

“Well,  _ seriously, _ ” she touched his hand, a meaningful look in her brilliant blue eyes, “I’d love to see it. We’re always looking for new staff.”

“I think we have some of his portfolio in the car,” Lawrence commented offhandedly. Adam whipped his head around, eyes wide.  _ You fucker… _

Just as Lawrence was about to excuse himself to get said portfolio he apparently compiled in secret, a hush fell over the room. The matriarch of the family, Grandma (or Great-Grandma) Josephine had entered the room, looking the very picture of Old Money. She was tight-lipped and made up in a tastefully festive dress and cardigan, setting the standard of dress for the evening. Adam felt pitifully underdressed in his dark jeans and untucked button down. Maybe he should’ve followed Lawrence’s example and worn one of those sweaters he’d bought him weeks ago, though he loathed the stitched tartan design.

Behind Josephine was a man of about her age, though he was her cartoonish opposite. He was energetic and joyous, smiling brightly as he was mobbed by the children, all jumping to get his attention, like little puppies. He grinned, scooping them together in a broad-armed bear hug, all of them squealing with delight. He was Grandpa (or Great-Grandpa) Liam, the patriarch and Josephine’s husband, who seemed content to entertain the younger family members while Josephine greeted her children and grandchildren.

“I’m so glad everyone made it in safely,” she said with an old world accent that Adam couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was just the language of the rich? “Is anyone missing?”

“No word from Keith yet,” James responded, setting his emptied drink on a coaster beside him. Josephine nodded with a soft, dramatic sigh.

“Well, we shall see. Now, I do see a new face. Young man, with Lawrence?”

Adam stood up a bit straighter, eyes wide and jaw tight. Lawrence’s hand came reflexively to the small of his back, steady and assuring.

“This is my friend, Adam Faulkner.”

“In lieu of Alison and Diana, I see.”

“The divorce has our Christmases divided,” Lawrence explained briefly, “But I told Adam he would be welcome here.”

“Of course,” Josephine nodded daintily, “It’s good to meet you, Adam.”

“You too, ma’am,” he responded drily. But then the focus turned away from him and to Liam, who was attempting to pick up two of his great-grandchildren at one time. Josephine rushed to him, chiding him about his bad back, but he wouldn’t hear it. He hoisted the two twins, Jacklynn and Cheyenne, up into the air, the two of them squealing with delight.

“They don’t weigh anything,” he laughed, curling the girls in his arms like free weights, “Might as well be kittens.”

“ _ Liam! _ ”

“Fine, fine,” he set the girls down, letting them wobble giddily back to their parents, “So, who’s hungry?”

Adam couldn’t begin to describe the feast with which he was presented, even if he had a Shakespearian command of the written word. It was massive, encompassing every notion of Christmas dinner that one might call to mind. Ham, turkey, roast beef, potatoes of all kinds, green beans, corn…  _ everything.  _ He recalled ordering Chinese food on a nearly annual basis growing up, when his dad would be called to some emergency at work, as he currently stuffed his face. And the  _ wine.  _ Granted, he wasn’t much of a wine drinker or connoisseur (Jackson was happy to fill him in on about a thousand things he didn’t need to know to enjoy the drink) but this, he could tell, was expensive and delicious. Lawrence had to remind him once or twice to slow down on his drinks but Adam ignored him. It was Christmas, after all.

It was around dessert when Lawrence was alerted to the sound of the front door opening, as well as the footfall of two people entering the home. Realization hit him slowly but with force, giving him a brief second to touch Adam’s arm before the last two guests entered the dining room. Keith and Patriot, as promised, had arrived as late as anything.

“Hey everyone,” Keith held up one hand while his son ran off to find his seat. None of his cousins wanted to move for him, “Merry Christmas. Anything left from dinner?”

“Hello Keith,” Josephine responded primly, moving one arm slightly to allow Patriot to give her an anticipated hug. Liam went about finishing his wine, “Did you forget to call ahead?”

He shrugged, “Why bother? You know how Minnie gets. She’s always on my ass about something.”

“ _ Keith _ .”

He rolled his eyes and found his place at the table, right next to Lawrence. Everyone exchanged greetings with the two latecomers and returned to their previous conversations. Adam suddenly found he wasn’t as hungry as he thought, but especially so when Keith leaned forward over the table, looking directly at him. His dark blue eyes cut through him with such intensity that Adam thought he might actually be set aflame.

“And you are?”

“This is Adam,” Lawrence interjected for about the thousandth time that evening, “He’s a friend from New York.”

There was a moment then where Keith’s eyes flicked back and forth between Adam and Lawrence, as if trying to piece a puzzle together inside his head. He snorted after another moment and looked around to the other guests with an expression that Adam read as, “Seriously?” He frowned, ready to say something if necessary, but then he felt Lawrence’s hand on his under the table, and he let the matter go. After all, he still had plenty of wine; no need to go running his mouth.

After dinner, the children went upstairs to play in the playroom, which may or may not have included all of the newest games and consoles, as well as more traditional children’s toys. Adam was more than a little buzzed at this point but he kept it to himself, mostly staying on the couch or hovering near Lawrence while he caught up with his family. Lawrence encouraged him to talk to people—Victoria and Jackson, especially—but Adam waved it off in a learned gesture, insisting he was tired. Eventually, Lawrence gave up and busied himself with socializing while Adam excused himself, deciding his time would be better spent drunkenly exploring the estate.

Adam was gone for about five minutes before Lawrence noticed. His concern was minimal but present; there was a very real chance Adam would get lost in the mansion. Before he could go searching for him, however, he was accosted by Keith in the hallway. His cousin, not much taller than him but obviously more muscular, was holding a half-drunk glass of whiskey. Lawrence stepped back, shoulders squared.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your divorce.”

Lawrence groaned internally and ran a hand through his hair. Keith continued.

“I feel like everyone here is always talking about it right? Divorce? Like it’s some kind of taboo. But honestly, it’s the best thing that can happen, right? Of course, either way the bitch takes all your money  _ and _ your kid, so what’s—”

“I’m not doing this,” Lawrence quickly interjected, one hand up, “I don’t resent Alison.”

“Come  _ on, _ Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes, of course you do. Everyone resents their ex-wife. So what was the reason, hm? She cheat on you? Or she just couldn’t stand taking care of another dependent?”

Lawrence clenched his jaw hard enough to hear his teeth grind together. Keith sipped his drink, either unaware or uncaring of how his remark came across.

“I’m not a  _ fucking _ dependent.”

“Jesus Christ, Larry, chill out. Just because I have the balls to actually acknowledge that shit.”

“I’m  _ fine _ with it,” Lawrence set his glass down, half concerned what he might do to Keith if he retained possession of it, “I don’t care. It means I survived, which is a hell of a feat, alright?”

“Yeah, a couple hours playing a guessing game with your new boyfriend. Did you think of looking for a key before going full ham with it?”

_ Calm. Calm. Calm.  _ Lawrence’s hand began tapping furiously at his thigh.

“You weren’t there,” he said, low and serious, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Fine,” Keith held up his hands dismissively, “Let’s talk about  _ Adam, _ then.”

Lawrence exhaled sharply, eyes darting off, “What about him.”

“I think it’s  _ great _ you moved on and everything, but bringing your little butt buddy to the house is a little over the top.”

Lawrence was glad he’d set down his glass, “Shut the fuck up.”

“ _ Wow,  _ that’s Christmas-y.”

“You shut the fuck up, Keith. You don’t know what you’re talking about, as per usual.”

Keith snorted, a nasty smirk playing across his lips, “That’s why you got divorced, huh. You realized you were a fag and ditched her and Diana.”

Lawrence contemplated if familial exile would be worth smashing his glass into the side of Keith’s head. It probably would be but he resisted.  _ Calm. Calm. Calm. _

_ Where the fuck was Adam? _

—

Up on the second floor, Adam was running his hand along a wall and following wherever it led. He’d already stumbled upon two full bathrooms, a handful of bedrooms, a study, an office (whatever the difference was), and now the aforementioned playroom. The children were playing nicely, sharing controllers, cheering each other on, running around and hiding from each other. The two oldest kids, Diamond and Ruby, were playing chaperone but only just barely. Ruby was completely involved with her iPad while Diamond had her headphones in, half watching the kids’ game on the large flatscreen. Adam stood in the doorway, reflecting on the sad comparison of his childhood spent sharing a handful of toys with his brother, when Diamond finally noticed him. She smiled excitedly, jumping up from the beanbag she had previously been sucked into, and approached him with an almost exaggerated, feminine walk. He furrowed his brows but stood up straighter, fighting the alcohol’s will to get him horizontal.  _ God, a bed sounds great right now. _

“Get bored with the grownups?”

“Something like that,” he scratched his nose, mock casually, “This is a Hell of a room.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, tossing half her hair behind her shoulder and rubbing at the exposed section of her neck, “But it’s kind of immature for me.”

“I don’t know, I’d kill for a go at that Wii U.”

Diamond laughed nervously then nodded for the two of them to vacate to the hall. Adam followed because it seemed like the thing to do. Once in the hall, Diamond drifted a little closer and Adam felt his back meet the wall.

“So you’re like a big shot photographer, huh.”

Adam snorted sharply, quickly covering his mouth. Diamond bit her lip, fighting a grin.

“Hell no. I work for a tabloid. Did Lawrence tell you that because he keeps  _ lying. _ ”

“Yeah, he’s bragging on you,” she shrugged, eyes rolling, “He does that. But I’d love to see your photos. Are they in your room?”

“They’re probably in the car,” Adam looked away, approximately in the direction of the garage but Hell if he honestly knew. The house was a labyrinth as far as he was concerned, inebriated or not. He snapped back to attention when he felt Diamond’s hand on his wrist.

“We could go there. I really want to see them.”

_ Oh fuck. _

“O-oh,” Adam coughed, feeling his face grow redder by the second. This time, it wasn’t from the alcohol, “No, no that’s fine. We can look at them later. In the living room. With people around.”

Diamond huffed slightly, eyes darting up and down the hallway for a second before stepping closer yet again. Now she was in Adam’s space, the sweet scent of her perfume catching his mind. Jesus, how was this his life? He couldn’t get a girl to give him a second glance before and now he had to fight off his  _ boyfriend’s underaged neice?? _ Go fucking figure.

“Where’s your room?”

_ Fuck! _

“No,” he finally said, as sternly as he could, “Diamond, seriously. No way.”

“Come on,” she implored, voice sweet and seductive, “I’ve never been with an older man.”

“For a good reason!” he shout-whispered, pushing her hand away, “You’re 17!”

“I’ll be 18 in a couple months.”

“That doesn’t make it better! I’m still 10 years older than you!” that gave Adam pause. He stared off for a moment, reflecting on that fact. He was nearly  _ 30 _ and that was a lot for his drunken mind to deal with, on top of everything else.

Then suddenly Diamond had his hand on her breast. Her  _ exposed _ breast. Somehow in his lapse of concentration she’d worked her shirt open, revealing a lacy red bra with a gold clasp in front. Thank God, it was still closed, but the way Diamond was moving toward him, it was obvious she was trying to get him to undo it for her. He pulled back his arm as if he’d been burned, stumbling back against the wall, eyes wide and fearful.

“Diamond!”

“ _ Please,  _ Adam,” she begged, biting her lip again. This girl was relentless, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m dating your uncle!” Adam finally sputtered.

Diamond stopped. She stepped back and pulled her shirt closed.

“You’re  _ what? _ ”

Oh fuck. He wasn’t supposed to say that.

“I… I’m dating Lawrence?”

“Are you fucking kidding me??”

“No?” he winced. Diamond scoffed, eyes downcast. She was clearly embarrassed. Adam almost felt sorry for her before he noticed her smirking, a laugh bubbling to the surface.

“This is fucking rich.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Adam pleaded.

“Oh, I’m telling  _ everyone. _ ”

“Because I wouldn’t fuck you??”

Diamond touched her nose, smirking broadly. Then she was gone and Adam was freaking out.

_ Lawrence! _

—

Lawrence had managed to escape his cousin’s onslaught of ignorance only by the skin of his teeth when his uncle, Keith’s dad, called to him. He slipped away quietly down the hall then, searching for his missing boyfriend in the maze of the mansion. He found him rather quickly, the two of them nearly colliding as Lawrence rounded a corner and happened to catch the younger man, half stumbling, half running to find him.

“Lawrence!!”

“Jesus, there you are. What happened? Why are you out of breath?”

Adam stammered through his explanation, panning over a number of details for the sake of time. After all, Diamond was sober and knew the house much better than him. For all he knew, she was exposing the relationship  _ right then. _

“You told her??”

“She took her shirt off!”

“What?!”

“Dude, she,” Adam gasped and shook his head, trying to get his story straight, “She was trying to fuck me! I didn't know what else to say!”

“She's a child, Adam! You tell her no!”

“Yeah well that didn't fucking work!”

Lawrence took a minute to breathe, looking past Adam’s head to the wall so that he could calm down and think. Adam, meanwhile, hiccuped sadly, face pressed to Lawrence’s chest. All said and done, though, this was not the biggest scandal his family ever faced, even on Christmas.

“Okay, okay, hey,” he got Adam’s attention again by tilting his chin up, “It's going to be okay.”

“I'm sorry…”

Lawrence hushed his blubbering with a sweet kiss that Adam allowed himself to melt into. They parted and Lawrence straightened his posture, mentally taking up arms in case of a blow out. It should be fine though.

_ It'll be okay. _

Everyone was in the family room now, quietly making conversation over drinks about a myriad of things. Lawrence entered after grabbing his forgotten glass, followed closely behind by Adam, and cleared his throat to gather everyone's attention. It took a minute or so before the room quieted down enough so that he could address everyone, both allowing him time to gather his nerves and grow more anxious about the reveal.

“Hey everyone,” he began, willing away the nervous shake in his voice. He could see Keith eyeing him from the corner, working on his own drink, “I know we're all having a good time and I don't mean to disrupt the evening like this, but there's something I need to tell everyone.”

Diamond entered the back of the room just then, looking confused for a brief moment before realizing what was going on. Adam watched her blearily, watching the previously smug expression be replaced by disappointment and frustration.  _ Vindictive bitch. _

“Well,” Lawrence continued, clearing his throat again, “The thing is… Hah. My friend, Adam, is… My boyfriend. We've been dating for… About a year now. I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want anyone to assume is has anything to do with my divorce. It doesn't. Alison and I were having problems long before he and I met and I just happened to fall in love with him. But… That's it, really.”

His family reacted quietly to the news, mostly exchanging glances or murmuring amongst themselves. Attention then turned to Grandma Josephine, perched in her opulent armchair and delicately holding a glass of red wine. She looked between the generations of her family, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arching gracefully, before responding, as she was expected to do.

“I'm happy for you, Lawrence.”

Lawrence stared, aware his mouth was gaping a little. She nodded pointedly at the faux pas and he snapped his jaw shut, like a schoolboy.

“It's not as though this is the first homosexual relationship in the family,” she nodded to Amanda and Skye, busy hushing the sleepy baby, Minh, who had began to fuss. Amanda looked up, knowing her cue, and grinned crookedly.

“Paved the way for you, cuz.”

“Thank you, Amanda,” Lawrence snorted, matching her grin.

“Well, in the interest of transparency,” Jackson raised his glass, lazily capturing the attention of the room, “I've been living with my partner in the city for a couple years now.”

“ _ What? _ ” A handful of relatives chirped back at him as he sipped his wine.

“Oh sure. I just didn't want to make a spectacle of myself like some other people.”

Lawrence scowled.

But that was about it. A couple of his older relatives avoiding saying too much more about it but most of his generation were curious enough to really talk to Adam now. He was more than a stranger their cousin had dragged into their holiday; he was family. Adam seemed to respond to the warm welcome, eventually relaxing enough that he would stray from Lawrence's side, holding his own in the conversations  _ he  _ initiated. Seeing him so emboldened allowed Lawrence to relax as well, finally able to enjoy the evening and the company of his family (with a few exceptions.)

As the night drew on, people either drank or retired to bed, making way for some truly embarrassing moments. Victoria had spilled her wine on James, who'd gone on barking her Miranda rights while she sobbed with laughter. Adam and Victoria got into a heated, though extremely drunk, argument over some inane photographer’s debate. Lawrence didn't really know. All he knew was he was suddenly dragging Adam away from the conversation, his limbs flying with his passionate gesticulation. Victoria was left behind, laughing and doubled over, as the two disappeared around the corner.

“Professional, my ass!” Adam exclaimed through a slur. He was about to launch into another rant for Lawrence’s benefits before he was silenced by the older man’s index finger on his mouth. The other was pointing upward, indicating mistletoe just above their heads. It took Adam a moment to catch on, what with his vision being partially blurred due to the vast amount of alcohol he'd drunk over the course of the day, but then he grinned and Lawrence swooped in for a long overdue snog. It wasn't like Lawrence to be so affectionate, even lewd, out in the open where anyone could see, but then again, this was the first time he'd gotten seriously drunk since they started dating. Adam quickly discovered he liked drunk Lawrence. A  _ lot.  _ It wasn't long before Lawrence had him pressed against the wall, tongue in his mouth and hands on his ass and Adam was near to whining. Before it got too out of hand (or more out of hand), Lawrence pulled away, stumbling and holding onto Adam's hands, beckoning him to follow him upstairs. Adam couldn't help but followed, eager to find out what drunk Lawrence had in store for him.

Passing by the living room, now filled with only a handful of the Gordon family, all clearly toward the end of their nights, Lawrence bid them good evening, merry Christmas, and a restful sleep. It was obvious from the way Adam closely trailed behind the older man, two hands clinging to his one, where they were headed to. This caused a few of the drunker Gordon's to catcall and whistle,missing the men a very good night indeed. Embarrassed but giddy, Adam blushed and hurried the older man along. He was through with waiting, done with socializing; all he wanted now was his night alone with Lawrence. The way he figured, he'd earned a long, slow night of lovemaking. Lawrence laughed giddily in response and it occurred to Adam that he must've been speaking out loud.  _ Whoops. _

As soon as the door closed behind them, Lawrence was on him. Wasting no time, he kissed Adam into the wall, hands fumbling with the younger man’s jeans in an eager rush to get him undressed as quickly as possible. Adam was caught between giggling and moaning, as excited and drunk as he was turned on, especially when Lawrence suddenly picked him up, apparently done with the charade. Then Adam squealed, locking his legs reflexively around the older man’s hips as he walked the two of them to the bed. Adam was able to get another kiss or two in before collapsing heavily on the mattress with Lawrence above him, already thrusting though they were still separated by the maddening layers of denim and cotton.

“Christ, Lawrence,” he breathed against his mouth, “You fucking horn dog.”

“I want to fuck you,” Lawrence replied succinctly. Adam moaned, grinning, and allowed the older man to continue with the messy but enthusiastic exploration of his body.

Clothes came off article by article until the two were blissfully naked and rutting messily together. Lawrence deeply lamented the lack of foresight on his part; he hadn't thought to bring any lubricant with them, likely not having expected to want to get up to anything at his grandparents’ estate.  _ Stupid,  _ he cursed himself as he kissed a path down Adam’s writhing body,  _ Always bring lube. _

But then he had Adam’s cock in his mouth and Adam was making the most amazing sounds, gripping his hair tight and bucking his hips. Lawrence moaned, swallowing around him and holding onto his hips tight, knowing that kind of force drove Adam wild. As expected, Adam all but wailed, then quieted down to pleading pants for Lawrence to finish him, make him come, “Lawrence, please, God—!”

But the doctor had bigger plans in mind and instead drew away, licking a last, long stripe up the length of Adam's cock. The younger man whined and swatted at him, clearly annoyed. Lawrence grinned and kissed his pout away, swiping his tongue into his mouth just long enough for Adam to taste himself. Emboldened by this unabashed display of animalistic eroticism, Adam rolled the two of them over so that he could straddle Lawrence’s hips. He wanted nothing more than to sink smoothly onto the older man’s cock and ride him until they were both breathless and spent, but he too was aware of their lack of both lube and coordination. It just wasn't in the cards. Instead, he made due with rutting against Lawrence’s much larger cock, shivering at the spit-slick slide. He then took them both in his hands, fumbling slightly though his alcoholic haze, and began to thrust.

“Oh…” Adam moaned, soft and high. Lawrence knew he was close, having heard this same sigh many times before. Gripping the younger man’s ass, he began to meet Adam’s thrusts with his own, growling low through his teeth the way he knew Adam liked. Adam responded by bouncing on Lawrence’s hips, mimicking how he would ride him if he had the opportunity now. The two were reaching their climaxes quickly, rocking on the bed together and gasping in a cacophonous symphony. Not too much long after, Adam came with a broken shout and Lawrence followed quickly behind, gasping raggedly with his head back and his nails digging into Adam's hips. The aftershocks left them both shivering as they collapsed onto the plush duvet, quickly overwhelmed by the relief of orgasm and the fatigue of alcohol.

“Babe, your leg,” Adam mumbled sleepily into the pillow. Lawrence grunted, kicking his right leg out as if it would do anything to unlock the straps securing his prosthetic in place. It took another whine from Adam before Lawrence could be arsed to sit up and blindly remove his prosthetic, though he was grateful when it clattered to the floor. With everything now settled, the two clumsily pulled the covers over themselves and let unconsciousness overtake them.

—

The next morning came far too early for either man’s liking. Dry mouthed and head aching, Lawrence fumbled with his prosthetic before hobbling to the en suite bathroom. Immediately upon entering, he stuck his head under the sink of greedily drink the cool water, hoping it would cure his nausea. In the bedroom, he heard Adam stir with a moan and a cry for Lawrence.

“Bathroom,” Lawrence called back, trying not to retch. He suddenly remembered why he'd quit getting drunk when he'd turned 30.

After fumbling through their morning routines and hoping to God they'd make it through the day, Lawrence and Adam filed downstairs for breakfast. The house was filled with delicious, savory smells that did more to entice Adam than Lawrence, likely due to his younger metabolism. Lawrence stuck to coffee and a couple pastries while Adam loaded up on just about everything the buffet-style kitchen had to offer.

“Rough night,” James nudged his cousin knowingly. He'd been one of the few to turn in early. Lawrence flashed an unimpressed look and drank deeply from his mug.

After breakfast came the annual family photo, making good use of Victoria’s professional talents. Adam, for all his vitriol and venom the night before, didn't even blink. Instead, he took his place next to Lawrence toward the end of the group, mimicking the growing family tree. The younger children squirmed and fussed, none too happy about being corralled together when they knew there were games to be played out on the snowy estate.

_ One, two, three! _

Smiling broadly, Adam couldn't help but tuck his head against Lawrence's shoulder, feeling the weight of the older man's arm across his back. A few more shots, everyone smiling or otherwise posturing for another snapshot to remember the holiday together, and Adam found himself reflecting on the sentimentality of it all. Here was this massive family who clung to their traditions fiercely enough that it brought them together every year, in some cases from across the country, even if they didn't exactly like each other. But instead of making him sad about his own little family, who communicated through a handful of calls throughout the year, he felt lucky to be included in this family too. Yes, fine, the Faulkners couldn't really compare to the Gordons, but families were families; growing and changing with the people who made them up.

Anyway, Adam considered his real family to be solely and singularly Lawrence. And that would always be enough.


End file.
